


Stubborn Egos and Wrong Impressions

by absentminded_artist



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Original Work, Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Drama, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10563183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absentminded_artist/pseuds/absentminded_artist
Summary: Elizabeth Bennet's life revolved around saving for grad schools, trying to make sure her two youngest sisters actually stayed in school period, and all but running a coffee shop in her small town of Meryton.The last thing she needed was a wealthy out-of-towner to decide that a local long-abandoned manor house would make the perfect vacation home, and oh, wouldn't it be great to throw a charity event after the house was all fixed up.What she needed even less, was for her mother to decide that the introduction of rich young men in town was the perfect opportunity to play match-maker.Too bad she got both.(a modern adaptation of Jane Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice')





	1. Chapter 1

It is a generally acknowledged fact that a young woman, in possession of an undergraduate education, must be in want of a life. Particularly, a life that, apart from the holiday times, does not involve her parent's house. Of this fact, the Bennet sisters were no exception. However, money being as it was, that life they were in want of was currently on hold.

Another pertinent fact is that small towns, such as the one the Bennet's resided in, have their own ways about them. Meryton was certainly one such town, and while, being college town it's locals were tolerably used to outsiders, it did take some time to grow accustomed to any overturns of its habitual ways. For the past month or so, Meryton had been subjected to a particular sort of overturn. A large Victorian home just on the outskirts of the town, which had sat vacant for as long as anyone could remember, had finally been taken by a private buyer. A buyer who, from what some of the town's more determined gossips had ascertained, meant to make a summer vacation home out of it.

On the other side of town from the Netherfield House, in a tacky 50s inspired diner, Elizabeth Bennet's night was going badly and getting worse by the minute. The diner was unnaturally packed with noisy out-of-towners, a by-product of Meryton College's upcoming Family Weekend and although Elizabeth, didn't usually work nights, the diner's manager, had had to call in the 'reserves' to help staff the unusually crowded restaurant. So, that was how Elizabeth had come to be in the middle of poorly designed 50's hell at 9:24 pm on a Friday.

Leaning against the order counter for support, Elizabeth shifted slowly from one foot to the other. The unfamiliar pair of rollerblades she had been forced to borrow last minute pinched and her feet were killing her. Usually, she found the buzz of diner oddly comforting, but tonight, it was significantly less so. Absentmindedly, she half tuned in to the conversation going on in the kitchen behind her. They were talking about the man who had bought the Netherfield House and who, by all common account, would be settled in the home within the week, the bulk of the restoration now being complete.

Elizabeth, who had always had a soft spot for the old place was glad for its rebirth and would have found more reason for enthusiasm at the prospect of a new face if the entire town hadn't gone bonkers over him. He had been talked up to be some kind of entrepreneur/philanthropist/wonder boy big shot from New York City and that seemed to be all anyone is able to talk about. Oh, and that he was single. A fact more impressive to her  _mother_  than to herself. Elizabeth rolled her eyes, thinking offhand that she had previously thought that they had left that sort of mindset in the era of the diner.

She was on the brink of zoning out at the wall again, when her eyes wandered to a dark-haired man in the far corner of the diner, sitting alone and staring into a cup of coffee as if he would disappear into it if he could. She could sympathize.

"Elizabeth " Kaitlyn, one of the other waitresses called, snapping her out what she feared was a 'stare like a creeper at a customer' session. "Could you run to the store for some milk, we just ran out, again."

"Get Kyle to do it. He's kitchen. I've got a customer to take care of." she replied. Kyle looked up, and, noticing the eyes on him, pretended to hide his cell phone he had just been playing on with all the subtlety that nineteen-year-old boys possess.

Elizabeth just rolled her eyes and pushed off the counter, letting herself glide over to the man's table. He had just taken a sip of the coffee, which was probably lukewarm from all the time he had spent staring into it. He didn't even try to hide his disgust. She couldn't even blame him. It was a well know local fact that drinking the coffee here black was taste bud suicide, drinking the coffee at all was taste bud suicide, but sugar and milk helped as much as sugar and milk can. Only, they were out of milk because Kyle was too lazy to go get any. Sugar was the last resort.   
  
"It's better with sugar," Elizabeth said, half laughing at the look of sheer disgust that still lingered on the man's face.

He looked up. On first glance Elizabeth figured she'd put him in his late 20s, though he exuded sophistication like he belonged in another era, not some low end, mock-50s dinner packed full of college students, too young for the bars, and their noisy families.

She was suddenly and painfully aware that she was talking to probably one of the best looking men she had ever seen while wearing roller-skates, a poodle skirt, a frilly apron, and a name tag that read 'Josh'.

"The coffee," she repeated, trying to ignore these embarrassing facts "It's better with sugar."

He looked like he was about to say something back when the actual Josh, currently wearing her name tag  _walked_  up to the table to the eternal annoyance of Elizabeth's wheel-decked feet.

"I'm really sorry," he said to the man.

He turned back to Elizabeth, "The man at table twelve sent his order back to the kitchen for the third time and I think someone's kid just threw up in the bathroom. Also, one of the out-of-towners at table five just called me a faggot and I need you to stop me before I physically assault someone and then quit."

 _Un-fucking-believable_  Elizabeth thought to herself. Apparently, all 1950's attitudes were back in vogue.

She sighed and asked if someone else could deal with the bathroom, citing her horrible gag reflex and the fact that she wasn't even supposed to be scheduled for that night in the first place. Someone expressly  _not her_  should get barf duty. She promised to take the homophobic tourist's table if Josh would please just give her a minute to finish up here.

Elizabeth looked back over at the man and he waved as if to say, 'Yeah, I'm still here and this coffee still sucks alligator balls.' Though she was pretty sure the alligator, not to mention its balls, only existed in her head.

"I'm really sorry," she said, silently praying that the night somehow would not end in flames or Josh getting arrested, or both. "I'll bring you some sugar after I fix...this," she added motioning to everything and nothing in particular.

The man stood up and Elizabeth braced herself. There was no universe in which this was going to be good. Her luck just wasn't that long.

"I'm sorry, but I am fairly certain that even the nectar of the Greek gods could not save this coffee." He said before turning and walking toward the door.

 _Ouch._ However, Greek gods were something Elizabeth could work with. Maybe this night wasn't a complete disaster after all. She turned back to Josh, with what she hoped was an 'I'm going to kill you, but nicely' expression, then rolled after the man.

"You were right," she called out, just as he was about to leave.

He turned to face her, wondering what exactly she meant by that.

"On the food of the Gods thing. The coffee here sucks." she continued reaching into the pocket of her ridiculous apron for one of the business cards for the coffee shop she worked at during the day. Finding them among her order pad and pen, she separated one and handed it to the man.

"Come by tomorrow anytime before 1:00," she said, smiling again.

He took the card, then just stood there for a second.

"Well I have to go run damage control," she said, not really knowing how to end the not-conversation they were not-having. She cocked her head to the side, something her mother insisted was an 'unattractive habit' and added, "Really. Come by. I promise you, not all the coffee in this town tastes like liquid purgatory for your tongue."

Then, feeling like a world class idiot and perhaps the most awkward human being on earth, she turned and rolled back to where she had left Josh. The bells on the door jingled softly behind her as is opened, and swung shut behind the man.

Outside in the cool early autumn air, Fitzwilliam Darcy looked down at the business card in his hand.

Nectar and Ambrosia

Coffee Shoppe & Bakery

1123 Main Street, Meryton.

He marveled that his unintentionally snarky comment had been a closer hit that he had intended. As he walked the three miles back to Netherfield House, he wondered what kind of place the coffee shop on the business card was. Small town coffee shops, he reasoned, usually went one of two ways: remarkable, or remarkably disappointing. He figured he would have to go tomorrow and find out. After all, there wasn't much else to do now that Charles's renovations were nearing their completion and he was not one to turn down the promise of good coffee. As he walked, the image of her girl's dark eyes when she had smiled at him engraved itself deeper into his mind. For the first time since he had arrived in Meryton, he found himself not entirely dreading the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor edits to Chapter 1, and now on to Chapter 2.

The next morning, Elizabeth got to Nectar and Ambrosia a little earlier than usual. She searched through her keys and let herself in through the front door, smiling at the familiar jingle of bells, and re-locking it behind her. The clock on the wall behind the old-fashioned cash register read 5:49. It was just early enough that the first rays of morning sun have begun to stream over the horizon and through the slats of the wooden blinds. Mornings really are the best time of the day Elizabeth thought as she walked around the shop, raising all the sets of blinds and letting as much of the dim light as possible into the space.

She could never put her finger on what exactly it was about this place that made her love it so much, but she did and she loved working here. The Meryton Town Council had prohibited any type of chain stores decades ago, so her darling little coffee scented paradise was safe from corporate invaders like Starbucks or Dunkin' Doughnuts. Not that that much stopped the occasional out-of-towner from treating them like one. But as Meryton was a relatively small college town with no real tourist draws, she was usually safe from those types.

An old friend of Elizabeth's father's owned the place, and she had been working there since she was fifteen. At first, all she had been allowed to do was sweep up. By the by, however, he had taught her how to work the vintage machines that make Nectar and Ambrosia so unique. And by the time she was in college she was working as one of the managers, thankful for the steady job that helped offset the cost of college to her family.

Elizabeth finished setting out chairs and was just about to start loading a fresh batch of beans into the roaster when she heard the bells on the door jingle delightfully, signaling someone's entrance. It was still too early for customers, and Mei, the other girl scheduled to open that day, usually didn't get in until about half an hour before opening. Elizabeth looked up and saw that it is not a far-too-early customer at all, but fellow employee and best friend, Charlotte Lucas.

"You're up early Lizzy," Charlotte said with a laugh as she took her apron from one of the pegs in the back and went about collecting all the necessary ingredients for the pastries that would restock the shelves after the ones left over from yesterday ran out. Elizabeth just shrugged and loaded more beans into the grinder.

"I didn't know you were in today."

"Switched with Mei at the last minute. Her sister's in town and she wanted to spend the day with her. It's not a problem right?"

"Not at all," Elizabeth answered smiling, she enjoyed working shifts with Charlotte, and without any more need for conversation, they went back to working in a comfortable silence.

Over the years of early morning shifts together, the two of them had worked out a perfect rhythm where Elizabeth managed the coffee and Charlotte did the baked goods. Within only a few months of both working at the shop, they had found that this was the best method due to Elizabeth's seemingly inhuman propensity to burn anything that went into an oven. After the third fire alarm in a single week, Charlotte had taken over the baked goods permanently.

They worked in relative silence for the next few hours, just going about the early morning motions of running a coffee shop. At 7:30 A.M. the shop opened and before long, they had a small line of regular customers as well as a few early risers in town for Family Weekend. Thankfully, Elizabeth thought, despite being primarily made up of corporate-looking city types, they all seemed to have grasped the concept that Nectar and Ambrosia was not a Starbucks. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the unseen coffee gods for this small favor. There was no quicker way to ruin a morning than to have someone come in and order some Starbucks concoction, expecting the traditional shop to accommodate them without even trying to explain what they meant. It was not her job to translate Starbucks lingo, but if a customer at least tried to explain what they wanted, she could usually pull off something similar. She sent up another silent thanks for the fact that no one had yet committed the sin of ordering while talking on the phone. The morning, so far, was going remarkably smoothly inside the small corner shop.

~~~

The party at Netherfield House set off for Nectar and Ambrosia a little before eleven.

The still, late morning air chilled them pleasantly as they made their way down the cobbled main street. Darcy had mentioned the coffee shop to Charles the night before and Charles had eagerly set a plan that they, along with one of his sisters, should all drive into town together that morning. They had parked the car just off of the college campus in a visitors lot, opting to walk into the center of Meryton since none were yet familiar with the interwoven oneway streets. As they walked, Charles tried in vain to start up a conversation which Darcy was much to under-caffeinated to attend to and Caroline was simply not interested in.

"Can you believe this place?" she asked, cutting off whatever Charles had been about to say. "It's so..."

"Charming," Charles interjected sincerely.

"Quaint," she finished.

From the way she said it, Darcy got the feeling that she didn't mean it as a compliment.

Caroline turned to him. "I'm sure you would not wish to spend too much time here Darcy.

"I could not live here," he responded simply, mind still preoccupied with the near prospect of coffee.

Still, as they continued down the redbrick pathway, Darcy took in just how picturesque the town really was. In a way, he meant what he had just said. He could not live in a town like this, but he had to admit that the place did have more charm than he had originally thought. Perhaps, making a judgment of a town from one night at a crappy diner was not such a good idea after all. As the three approached the corner, Darcy could see their destination. It was a corner shop with a sign in swirled letters, not quite cursive, reading: "Nectar and Ambrosia: Coffee Shoppe and Bakery." Just like on the card.

"This looks charming." Charles said, as he pushed open the door and lead the party inside and Darcy thought offhand that he really should keep a tally of how many times a day Charles used the word "charming." An intervention may be necessary.

A soft jingle of bells announced their arrival to the girls inside who were just about to sit down to their own lunches and they were greeted by the warm aroma of brewing coffee and freshly baked pastry cakes.

Darcy looked around, taking in his surroundings. This shop looked like it smelled. Warm and inviting. To the right was a sitting area, complete with oversized chairs and a large couch all clustered around what appeared to be a decoupaged coffee table. An old man with a newspaper was seated in one of the chairs, seemingly oblivious to their presence. A dark-haired girl sat on the opposite couch, eating a sandwich. There were stools lining the two elevated counters, one in place of a bar area, the other wrapping around the inside of the store's large bay window. A couple sat at one of the far tables. Besides them, the shop was empty.

Motioning to Charlotte to keep eating, Elizabeth stood to greet them, brushing a few stray sandwich crumbs off her jeans as she did. Darcy took note of the half-eaten sandwich on the small table and mentally kicked himself for not having set out sooner. Thankfully she did not seem as if she resented the interruption too terribly.

"Hello," she said, smiling, glad the man had actually come. "What can I get you?"

Caroline stepped in front of her brother before he had a chance to speak and said, in a superior tone, "I'll have a venti skinny triple-shot caramel macchiato with no foam." Elizabeth just stared at her and sighed. There went the day's record. Damn these Starbucks junkies. She had even managed to combine the two worst sins at once. The "Sin of the Starbucks Sizes" and the "Sin of 'You Have No Idea What a Macchiato is Do You?'" Elizabeth could feel the disdain emanating from the woman. She hated being judged, and this woman was doing it quite blatantly.

Charlotte snorted from her place on the sofa.

Elizabeth sighed again and adopted what she hoped was a convincing customer service tone, "Ma'am, this isn't a Starbucks. We don't have a 'venti.' Our large is 20 ounces with I think is roughly the same. And also, you cannot make a macchiato 'large' as by definition, it's espresso and a dash of steamed, frothy milk."

The woman shot Elizabeth a devastating glare. If looks could kill, she reasoned, she'd be dead right about now.

"Well then what do you have?" the woman asked, her tone implying exactly what she thought of Elizabeth's precious little shop.

Elizabeth smiled again, trying her best to look accommodating but realizing that it probably looked more like a smirk, and replied in the sweetest tone she could muster, "We do real macchiatos," she said, knowing full well that the woman glaring at her thought she had ordered one, "Also lattes, cappuccinos, flat whites, and straight brewed coffee. You can add any of the syrups behind me to coffee and lattes as well as vanilla or almond extract, which I recommend over the syrups. We don't currently do blended drinks since it's nearly winter but we can put almost anything over ice. Also, we have earl grey, spice chai, chamomile, and regular black tea."

Kill 'em with kindness she reasoned; or, at least with all the mock-accommodation, her customer service voice could muster.

"That's what I ordered, a caramel macchiato." the woman repeated as if Elizabeth were a slow child who needed directing. Next to being scrutinized, Elizabeth hate being talked down to and this woman had managed to do both in the span of a few minutes.

"No," Elizabeth tells her, mimicking her tone, "It wasn't. Would you like me to repeat our menu or you could just read it off the board behind me."

The woman just stood there for a moment until the man behind her could be heard choking down laughter. She thought she saw a flash of amusement pass over the dark haired man's face, but she could be mistaken. It could just be gas. He, quite, unfortunately, appears to fall into the woman's category of aloof judgment. Too bad she thought. If only he had had a personality to match his looks. The woman shot another look at the green-eyed man, who was still trying, unsuccessfully, to contain himself, before answering Elizabeth's inquiry, her voice still dripping with condescension and disdain.

"I will be talking to your manager," the woman said, earning her another snort from Charlotte.

"What!" she snapped, whipping her head around to glare at Charlotte.

Elizabeth pointed to the badge above her name tag, this one correctly supplying her name,"I am the manager, and you are getting on my nerves. Now, what would you like to order ma'am."

"Something non-fattening, and vanilla," she said, then stalked over to a bar stool at the far end of the counter and sat down in a huff.

Great. Vagueness and hostility, Elizabeth thought.

She shook her head, then turned to the two men still in front of her. "I'm sorry," she said, making a mental note that sassing someone's friend/sister is never a good way to make a decent first impression. "What can I get for you?"

If her manners couldn't save her, hopefully, her coffee could. It usually did.


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy had been attempting to arrange his thoughts into some sort of explanation as to why he was so irked by Caroline today. She was no more irritating or difficult than her usual self. So wrapped up in his own thoughts was Darcy that he barely caught half of the scene transpiring in front of him. Instead of listening, he found himself watching the woman behind the counter. Unlike at the diner, she didn't look stressed. Perturbed, maybe, but it was not the same run-down weariness she had worn the night before. This was Caroline specific.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Elizabeth addressed him and Charles directly, asking what they would like.

Darcy smirked as Charles moved in closer to the display case of pastries. The man always had had a sweet tooth as long as Darcy had known him. He was worse than any child.

"I'll have one of those." He said, pointing to an almost absurdly frosted pastry. "And...Do you do cafe breves?"

She smiled and nodded, handing him one of the pastries he pointed to on a plate.

"Will you be paying for her as well?" she asked.

Charles looked down to where Caroline had seated herself on one of the high stools at the end of the bar and sighed. "I guess. Yeah. I will. I am."

"Okay, That will be $9.63."

Charles handed her the money, motioning for her to keep the change, and went to sit with his sister. The woman finished scribbling their orders on a notepad, then looked up at Darcy and smiled. He found himself consciously having to remind himself not to smile at her like some college boy. She wasn't pretty, per say, but something about her open face and dark eyes intrigued him, however little he wanted to admit it.

"Coffee." Darcy replied, "Black."

Darcy started to take out his wallet when she stopped him.

"Please. It's on the house."

Elizabeth read his confusion and explained that it was to make up for the abuse of his taste buds at the diner the previous night.

Darcy returned his wallet to his pocket.

"Enjoy it," she added before he could turn away from the register. "Free coffee this good is a once in a lifetime experience."

He joined Charles and Caroline at the end of the bar where Charles was once again remarking about how charming he found the place. Caroline rolled her eyes and Darcy made a third tally mark in his mind.

"Really Charles, it's old." Caroline fake-whispered loud enough that Darcy could have guaranteed the women, Elizabeth, by her now correct name tag, had heard.

"Nonsense. It has character. You don't find many places like this in the city."

"I can't imagine why you would want to..."

Realizing that from where he sat, he had a perfect view of Elizabeth as she prepared the coffees, Darcy chose to focus his attention on that instead. It was surprisingly easy to just tune out his companions and direct his attention to the almost dance-like motions of Elizabeth making their coffees. As she pulled out the mugs for their drinks, he noted that no two in the place seemed to go together. Another thing Charles would describe as "charming" no doubt. Darcy tells himself that his fascination comes from his interest in coffee itself, rather than the person who was making the coffee at this moment.

Elizabeth went about making the lattes with the practiced ease of someone who had been doing a routine task enough times as to make a kind of art of it. A few years back she had found herself bored with her job and had decided to pour, quite literally, countless hours into refining her ability to put intricate designs into the foam of the drinks she served. The endless rush of college students running between classes with takeaway cups left her with little audience for such a talent and she was secretly happy for the sit-down customers giving her an excuse to show off, however irksome some of the members chose to be.

As she sat two mugs in front of Caroline, the Charles, finished with a flower and a swan respectively, Darcy fond himself almost regretting ordering his coffee black.

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you." Elizabeth said, addressing Darcy.

"I did not think that you had."

She smiled and turned back to the brewer, taking out a smaller blue porcelain cup this time. A few moments later she brought the cup back to him on a matching saucer me the cup on a saucer.

"Here you are, one black coffee."

"Better?" she asked, smiling as Darcy took a sip.

"Yes, very."

Darcy could feel the silence that lapsed after he spoke, but he could not for the life of himself formulated something to say. Instead, he watched as Elizabeth engaged Charles in conversation about the house and the upcoming fundraiser and found himself in the unpleasantly familiar position of envying the natural ease at which his friend could converse with anyone from the most imposing of corporate presidents to a small town barista.

Darcy could talk complex facts and figures with the best of them, but when it came to even the most routine of interpersonal interactions with strangers, his mind blanked and he reverted to silence rather than the trouble of forcing himself to do what had never come naturally to him. When he did speak in new company, he was overly formal, a habit that gave the impression to those who did not know him of him being haughty when in reality he was only uncomfortable, and more than a little shy. 


	4. Chapter 4

Elizabeth, desirous of drawing something more than monosyllabic conversation from the party, left Darcy to stare into his coffee and engaged his friend instead.He had been smiling at everything since the movement he stepped in the door and seemed to her the kind of man who would enjoy conversation. 

“So," she asked by way of an opening, “What brings you to our little town?Are you here for Family Weekend or do more exciting reasons draw you.” 

The man laughs good-naturedly. 

"Actually," he replied, “I just bought a house outside of town, I’m set on fixing it up with the help of these two of course." he pointed to the others.  "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself.  I'm Charles Bingley and this is my sister, Caroline, and my best friend, Fitz-“

The dark haired man shot him a withering look.

"Oh fine,” Charles, amended, "Darcy." 

Elizabeth glanced over to Darcy.She was beginning to get the sense that staring into his coffee and not speaking was a habit for him.

“I’m Elizabeth. Or more usually, Lizzy.I manage the towns only coffee shop and generally try to stay out of too much trouble.”   
At this, Charlotte looked over from where she had been wiping down tabled and shot Elizabeth a good-humored yet well-deserved glare.  
  
Elizabeth spent a good part of a quarter of an hour talking to Charles about his plans for the house and the fundraiser he is planning after it is completed.  He was friendly and personable and nothing at all like what she had expected when first she heard of his coming to town.  In an odd way, she was a bit disappointed as she dearly loved to observe the absurdities in others, and while Charles may have been a little too enthusiastic at times, she could find no serious defect in him.  Well, she thought, for the sake of everyone besides my personal amusement, agreeable additions to the neighborhood were vastly preferable.  
  
When the party stood to leave, or more pointedly, when _Darcy_  stood to leave and the others followed suit, Elizabeth bid the group adieu and went about gathering up the cups and saucers to be washed.

Charlotte joinder her at the sink.

"What was that all about?" she asked.“It seemed like you knew the tall one.”

"I met him last night during my late shift at Ruby's, where he has the unique misfortune to try the coffee.” 

Charlotte cringed in sympathy and Elizabeth nodded.  The diner's coffee is a well known local evil. 

“I told him that I'd make it up to him if he came by today.I had hoped he would turn out to be more..."  she paused to search for the word she wanted.  "Gentlemanly."  she decided.  "Unfortunately, he seems to think himself quite above our little college town."  She shrugged and returned her attention to the cups.

“Don’t be too harsh Elizabeth.You really don’t know him. Who were the others?" 

"Charles Bingley. Brother to the snarky woman and sponsor of these fast approaching events of great consequence to out hum-drum lives, or so some would like to think.”

"That was him? God, he's good looking.”Charlotte continues, ignoring her best friend’s dramatics.

"All the worse for him,” Elizabeth said.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow.“Why?”

“The mothers in this town will be on him twice as quick.  Good God.  Rich  _and_  Handsome!"  Elizabeth exclaimed, throwing a hand to her heart  "The poor man won't have a moment's peace."

"Are you saying you wouldn't want a stab at him?”

"Charlotte!"  Elizabeth gasped in mock indignation,  "He's not a piece of meat.  For heaven's sake, you're as bad as my mother.  Plus, you know me, I don’t do flings.I’m not going to throw myself into a relationship unless I know can love the person.And besides, Charles isn’t likely to be in town for long.That old manor is a vacation home.Our little town can hardly support the primary residence of a high-class businessman, or whatever his claim to fame and fortune is. 

"Elizabeth, you'd do better not to think that.  Many happy relationships came about by chance.Many marriages too.  And from couples who were not absolutely sure they were in love when they first wed.  And besides, there is never any guarantees for happiness, as there will always be reasons enough to disagree and fight in married life.”  
  
“You have got to be joking Charlotte! You don't actually believe that?”

Charlotte just shrugged as she dried the cups.

"You do!” Elizabeth exclaimed, genuine this time.

"It's true.”

"No, it isn't.  Just look at my parents.”

"Yes, look at your parents.  From what you told me, they were in love when they got married, now look at them.”

"What?!"  Elizabeth asked, pretending to be shocked and offended.

Charlotte just gave her a look.

"Oh fine,” she consented,  "they're a wreck."

Charlotte laughed.

"You know,"  I tell her,  "Too many psychology books have got to be bad for your brain sooner or later.”

At 2:00 PM their relief arrived in the form of Lindsay and Leonard Evans, twins, and the shop’s only two high school aged employees.

"See ya." called Elizabeth, trading her apron out for her coat,  "Good luck with the yuppies.”

"Bye Elizabeth. " they sing-songed in unison.  "Bye Charlotte.”

The two girls laughed and waved as they opened the door to leave, letting the next wave of afternoon customers in as the did. 

"So,"  Elizabeth asked, zipping up her jacket against the wind as they started off down the cobbled street,  "What are your thoughts on this fundraiser thing they’re planning after that old manor home is fixed up?”

Charlotte sighed, ”I don't know, I mean I'm sure it's for a good cause and all, but it’s..."

"In our town."  Elizabeth finished.

“Yeah."

"Well look on the bright side."Elizabeth offered,  "At least we still have the street fair to look forward to before this place turns upside-down and inside-out.”

"I guess your right.”

“I generally am.” she teased.

"Oh Elizabeth, one day that cockiness of yours is going to get you into trouble that it won't be able to get you right back out of.”

“Hey, don’t knock my methods, they’ve worked so far. And besides, I am an excellent judge of character.”

“Bye Lizzy,"  Charlotte said, shaking her head at her friend as she broke off to walk down a side road to her house.  Elizabeth continued on alone, enjoying the feel of the crisp Autumn air on her face.  She really was looking forward to the street fair.One of the best parts of the otherwise overwhelming Parent’s Weekend was the artisan and game fair the town threw at the end of it.As she walked the remaining blocks back to her home, she occupied her mind by making a mental checklist of all the additional things she would have to do in preparation.Whoever said life after college was less stressful was a bald-faced liar.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm back!" Elizabeth called out as she pushed open the front door to her family's house, letting the old screen door knock shut behind her.

"Elizabeth!" called her youngest sister before she had even made it fully into the hallway, " You have to help me!"  She grabbed Elizabeth's arm, all but dragging her along.  Although Lydia was only eighteen and the youngest of five sisters, she had the attitude and manners of an only child who was used to getting her own way.  A character trait that could be blamed on the indulgence of their mother who babied her youngest child as a perpetual favorite. 

"What do you need Lyd?" Elizabeth asked, digging in her heels and sending up a silent prayer that her sister wouldn't drag her arm out of its socket as she tried to pull her up the stairs.

"You have to help me," Lydia repeated.  "I can't find Jane and Mary is being difficult. You have to come tell Kitty she looks ugly in my dress and so she can't borrow it!"

"It's  _my_  dress!" Elizabeth heard her second youngest sister Catherine, Kitty for short, call from an upstairs bedroom. "I only let you  _borrow_ it and you _stole_ it. I'm just taking back what is rightfully mine!"

"Lydia, I just got off work, I'm not dealing with this, go to mom."

"Mom!" Lydia promptly shouted, still holding Elizabeth's arm and nearly bursting one of her eardrums in the process.  For the love of God, the girl had lungs.

"Oh let her have it Kitty!" came their mother's response, also from upstairs.  
  
Elizabeth sighed and loosened herself from her sister's grip.  She loved her family, really she did.  Just sometimes she wished they come with a 'mute' button. Leaving Lydia and Kitty to their battle for dress ownership, she went in search of Jane, wanting to fill her oldest sister in on her encounter with the to-this-point illusive Charles Bingley.

Mary, the middle child, sat curled up in a chair in the small living room, a book in Russian on her lap. 

"Lydia and Kitty are at it again," she said by way of greeting.  

"They always are," Elizabeth responded laughingly.  "Do you know where Jane is?"

"One day their antics will embarrass more than themselves," Mary replied gravely. "And Jane is in the backyard."

Elizabeth smiled at her sister's doom and gloom attitude.  Lydia and Kitty could be annoying, sure, but they were harmless kids. As Mary had indicated, Elizabeth found Jane in the backyard, knees in the dirt,  busy pulling fall weeds and dried leaves out of the now desolate flower beds.

Elizabeth sat down beside her sister and began lending a hand to her work.

"Oh, hi Lizzy. How was work?"

"Good," Elizabeth replied, drawing out the word for effect.

"What is it?"

"I met some  _very_ interesting people today."

"From Parents Weekend or the fundraiser?"

"Fundraiser."

"Elizabeth, tell me," Jane says laughing.  

"I met the Charles Bingley himself."

"You mean the one who...?"

"Yup," Elizabeth confirmed. "The one who all the mothers around here have been dying to get their claws into for their woefully single daughters."

"I was going to say, 'The one who bought that huge house outside of town and is organizing the fundraiser' Lizzy."

"Well yes, that too." Elizabeth smiled.

"Did he come in alone?"

"No.  He a woman with him.  I don't think they were together.  A sister or other relative maybe. And another man. I think they are going to help him organize the fundraiser. Neither really looked like the house restoration type. "

"What were they like? We they nice?"

"You probably would have thought so."

"Elizabeth," Jane scolded.

"You would have! You only see the good in others."

"But really Elizabeth," Jane asked, "What did you think of them?"

"Charles seems nice enough. I like him, he reminds me of you. Unfortunately, his friend and his sister seem stuck up and proud. You'd think that such a seemingly charming young man would have better taste in sisters and friends, though the sister I suppose he cannot help."

"Elizabeth you only just met them, maybe they are simply awkward around new people.  Give them a chance to..." Jane is interrupted by their mother's shrill voice calling from inside the house.

"Elizabeth! Jane! Get in here!  I have news!"

"We better see what she wants," Jane said, standing and brushing the dirt from her knees. Elizabeth did the same and followed her into the house. They found their mother in the family room with Lydia and Kitty sanding by her.  Mary was still reading in her chair, trying her utmost to ignore them all.

"What is it mom?" Jane asked.

"Elizabeth," their mother demanded. "Lillian Lucas has just called me, and she says that Charlotte said that you met and talked to Charles Bingley today.  _The_ Charles Bingley. The one who is bringing his high society to our small town."

"I did," Elizabeth replied. Unlike when she had added  _"the"_ to the front of Charles' name, her mother was completely in earnest.

"And?!"

"And what?"

"Was he totally hot?" Lydia interrupted.

"He's not for you!" their mother scolded.

"He's not  _for_  anybody," Elizabeth amended. "He is an adult who is perfectly capable of making his own decisions.  And how can you know he's even looking for a relationship? Maybe he already has a girlfriend.  Or a boyfriend.  Hell, maybe he's planning on becoming Catholic Preist!"

"Well, if he's rich, and he's single, then he must want to find someone." Mrs. Bennet continued, barely registering Elizabeth's comments on the matter. "And where better than here? And who better than our sweet, beautiful Jane?" She cupped a hand under Jane's chin.

"Mother!" Jane exclaimed, turning her head away. For all her beauty, Jane hated being put on a pedestal by anyone, least of all her mother. 

"Oh come now darling, think of your future. Rich  _and_  handsome. Ooh, he must be something..." she trailed off, lost in her own musings.

Elizabeth was about to leave again when her father emerged from his study.

"What is this Lizzy?" he asked his second child. "What has your mother gotten herself worked up over this time?"

"Bingley," Elizabeth said simply, then she elaborated. " _The_  Charles Bingley.  Apparently, she has it all planned out for him to marry Jane."

" _The_  Charles Bingley?" he asked, with every bit of sarcasm his daughter had used, "Marry Jane? Well now Jane, I must congratulate you, from this account, you have gotten yourself a fine fiancé. But really, it is harsh that Bingley should be designed for you without my little Lizzy getting her shot." he said, kissing the top of Elizabeth's head.

"Dad don't, please," Jane said blushing. Although her father was in jest, his attention wasn't any less embarrassing for her.

"Aaron!" Mrs. Bennet rejoined the conversation. "You can't keep giving Elizabeth all the preference. She is no better than her sisters. She's not as lively as Lydia and she's not nearly as pretty as Jane."

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at her father who just shrugged, letting his wife continue.  

"By the way, Aaron, you have the most perfect timing."

"Why is that?"

"Why?! Because Elizabeth has just met Charles Bingley..."

"I gathered something of the sort had happened as she just told me.  But what has this to do with my timing?"

"Let me finish dear. She met him at that little coffee shop of hers and he is probably home right now!"

"Who, my dear. Who's home?" Mr. Bennet asked, feigning forgetfulness simply to vex his wife.

" _Charles Bingley_ , the rich young gentleman who bought that lovely house and is holding the fundraiser there at the end of next month and who is at the place  _right now_!"

"Yes, he probably is. I still don't see what any of this has to do with my timing?"

"You must go and visit them!" Mrs. Bennet practically screeched in excitement. "I have it all planned out. You must go and ask if they need any help, then, you must invite them to come have dinner with us." She clapped her hands together in excitement for the plan.

"I see no reason for all of that," Mr. Bennet responded.  "It will be an awful lot of effort on my part. And for what? We will see them in a few day's time at the street fair.  He's sure to go to it." 

"But everyone else will be there! And we want Jane to get a head start on all the other girls." his wife argued.

"You say Elizabeth has already met him? That seems more than enough to me."

"Who cares about Elizabeth?! It's Jane he'll want!"

Elizabeth, noticed by no one but Jane, took that as her cue to leave the room, heading up the stairs to her own. Her feet ached from standing all morning long and she wanted to get some reading in before her shift at the diner that night.    
  
What she wouldn't give for one quiet day.


End file.
